


You could’ve asked me why I broke your heart, you could’ve told me that you fell apart

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Supernatural Season 15 Codas [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst, Coda, Episode: s15e13 Destiny's Child, Flashbacks, Homophobic John Winchester, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23312440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: The question makes Dean uncomfortable.  It makes every hair on his arms stick up in worry and hesitation.  But he has to ask.  He has to.Dean turns when they are far enough away from the war room.  Alternate Dean stops with a neutral expression.Fear makes Dean’s mouth dry, makes his breath hitch for a beat.  When it gets to be too much, he folds his arms as a coping mechanism.He exhales, “that tan jacket you had on...where’d you get it?”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Supernatural Season 15 Codas [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1517966
Comments: 10
Kudos: 322





	You could’ve asked me why I broke your heart, you could’ve told me that you fell apart

**Author's Note:**

> The title was taken from the song “Save Your Tears” by The Weeknd.

Dean and Sam trudge down the bunker stairs, gaining the attention of their alternate selves. The alternate Sam and Dean turn away from a movie they stare at with interest on the laptop. 

“What?” Dean prompts gruffly.

Alternate Sam turns his man bun to the side, his skin a tad red. Alternate Dean closes the laptop abruptly and clears his throat, ducking his head in shame.

Sam snorts. “Never seen porn, huh?”

Alternate Sam and Dean say nothing, but they don’t need to.

“You’re not supposed to,” Dean blinks, “watch it together. Kind of a loner, uh, thing.”

Alternate Sam crosses his arms.

“Well,” alternate Dean says airily, “how did your hunt go?”

Sam and Dean grunt, refusing to offer information. 

Dean says, “I need to talk to you,” he pauses with an eye roll, “other me.”

Alternate Dean rises from the chair at the war room table. Both versions of Sam give Dean puzzled looks, which he ignores.

Dean guides his alternate self into a vacant hallway, wishing his curiosity about a certain detail weren’t so untameable.

The question makes Dean uncomfortable. It makes every hair on his arms stick up in worry and hesitation. But he has to ask. He has to.

Dean turns when they are far enough away from the war room. Alternate Dean stops with a neutral expression.

Fear makes Dean’s mouth dry, makes his breath hitch for a beat. When it gets to be too much, he folds his arms as a coping mechanism.

He exhales, “that tan jacket you had on...where’d you get it?”

Alternate Dean blinks. “My jacket?”

Something crosses over his eyes, a flash, a glint, a memory. He looks away, shading his eyes, casting them to the floor.

“What?” Dean breathes, his heart seizing, stopping, waiting for a reply that will make or break his state of mind.

Alternate Dean’s gaze shifts back up tentatively. “It’s…it’s my husband’s jacket.”

Dean knows it. He knows it with a certainty that cannot be explained. He is so connected with his other self in this moment that it goes beyond logic, beyond a shared thought, beyond a spoken word, beyond thinking or feeling or meaning.

Dean knows who his husband is. He knows it, feels it settle in his chest, feels it compress and expand and enter his bloodstream and force the entire world to fall into place.

A lump manifests from nothing in his throat. He is stuck in his place, in this space, with little to none of the necessary faculties to verbalize an inquiry in this moment. 

His chest collapses in a deep breath falling from his mouth, causing his heart to stutter and hurt. The aftermath has his eyes prickling with tears, which he blinks away quickly.

“O-Oh,” Dean murmurs, gaze searching the hands of his other self. “You’re...you’re not wearing a-”

Alternate Dean stares at the hands that Dean fixates on. “No,” he says, “he...he didn’t see the need for them.”

Dean feels the weight crush his other self, the realization that the alternate Cas was dead because of Chuck. He ached; he understands the other Dean’s pain very well.

“I thought Cas would be the romantic and sentimental type,” Dean says blankly, not registering his words but they cause the alternate Dean to half-smile.

“Is he here?” Alternate Dean asks. “Is he your husband too?”

Dean swallows thickly, and he shakes his head. He sniffles, continuing to shake his head. He swipes his eyes before he could do something silly like cry.

“But you love him,” alternate Dean asks easily, “don’t you?”

Oh, the tone of his voice. It speaks of a breeziness, an ease when regarding his true feelings, a happy heart worn on a more fortunate sleeve. 

This other Dean is a man that has not faced a fraction of what Dean and Sam have in this world.

“Tell me,” Dean can’t help but inquire, “does Father dearest mind you marrying an angel man?”

Alternate Dean scoffs. “But of course!” He grins. “Angels are the most coveted members of Hunter Corp. Dad works with them every day!” His smile fades at sobering reality. His next sentence comes out bitter and sad. “He was overjoyed that an angel fell in love with me, chose to marry me above all of his other suitors.”

Dean bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. If he doesn’t get a hold of himself, he’s going to start sobbing.

“You’re the luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever known,” Dean says thickly. “The luckiest Dean I’ve ever met.”

Alternate Dean bristles. “There are more of us?!”

“There were,” Dean shrugs, “not anymore. We seem to be the last Deans standing for now.”

“Well,” alternate Dean inhales sharply, “are you going to do anything about your Cas?”

Dean sighs, “it’s not as simple as you think, man.”

“Isn’t it?” Alternate Dean smiles, a twin pair of eyes sparkling. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Dean hugs his arms close to his chest. His hands clamp on either side of his elbows. He ducks his head low and shakes his head absently.

“You don’t know what I’ve been through, alright?” He grits his teeth. “You don’t know what he’s been through, what we’ve been through, or what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me,” alternate Dean clips.

Dean levels his gaze with his other self. “What?”

“Tell me about your world,” alternate Dean says. “It’s just you talking to you, right? No danger here.”

Dean hates that his other self’s logic makes sense to him. He supposes it can’t hurt to get things off of his chest.

He keeps his arms crossed defensively, but he says, “okay. Ready for this?”

“Yes.” Alternate Dean studies him curiously.

The information tumbles out of Dean. “Our mother was killed by a demon when Sam was a baby. Our father swore revenge and forced me to kill monsters when I was five. We lived in motels and hustled for money. Dad was an alcoholic, and he made me one too. He died thirteen years ago after driving drunk and getting pummeled by a semi.” He emphasizes, “with us in the car.”

The alternate Dean is appalled.

“Sam tried to escape hunting, but it’s all either of us know how to do. Until we found this bunker, we slept in our car. We fought hard just to live another day. Cas,” Dean pauses, worrying his lip, “my Dad would beat me, you know. He would beat me whenever I failed a hunt or didn’t protect Sam or looked at a guy...like that. He was proud when I fucked a woman, but,” his eyes water, “a part of me will always be messed up over that.”

Alternate Dean squints his eyes. He is in disbelief that these worlds are so different.

“Cas,” Dean sighs, “Cas is one of the few bright spots in my life. By this point, I...we’ve known each other for a decade. Cas wouldn’t be opposed, and it’s messed up that I know that even though I’ve never asked, but,” he blinks, “I think we’re both too fucked up for anything to happen by this point.”

Dean falls silent, clenching his hands over his crossed arms. He has never been more honest in his life. To anyone.

Alternate Dean breathes so long and deep that his shocked reaction is apparent. “You know what?” His eyes widen. “I am a lucky son of a bitch.”

Dean snorts, but can’t bring himself to smile in amusement.

A metal door at the very end of the hallway screeches open. Both Deans stare as Cas exits Jack’s bedroom, shutting off the light and closing the door lightly behind him.

When Cas’s gaze affixes to him, he narrows his eyes at both of them in turn. He tilts his head a little to the side, then advances towards the correct Dean warily.

“Jack is asleep,” Cas sighs, “we can’t bother him for a while.”

His eyes slide over to the alternate Dean. The alternate Dean is staring, Dean realizes.

The alternate Dean blushes and looks away pointedly.

Dean rolls his eyes; that will never change.

“How’d you know it was me?” Dean wonders aloud.

Cas blinks like he’s an idiot for asking. “The other one looks uncomfortable in his flannel.”

Alternate Dean bristles, and Dean’s mouth quirks upwards.

“We have to question Jack eventually,” Dean points out.

“It can wait,” Cas stomps away, “now go to sleep before you faint.”

When Cas is in the war room, Dean ducks his head, and alternate Dean stares at him.

“What?” Dean barks.

Alternate Dean hums to conceal a grin. “My Cas wasn’t so different from your Cas after all.”

At that, the alternate Dean dismisses himself from the hallway conversation. He goes to meet with both Sams and Cas in the war room.

Dean blushes alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
